


I Am His, He Is Mine

by moffnat



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Passion, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Vaginal Fingering, Wedding Night, and so is dimitri, holy shit these two are so romantic, y'all eatin good tonight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25994320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffnat/pseuds/moffnat
Summary: Marianne von Edmund becomes the Queen of Faerghus.Illustrated by @roxyryoko.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund
Comments: 24
Kudos: 91





	I Am His, He Is Mine

Marianne woke to the sound of twittering birds, rays of the Faerghus sun stretching to her temporary chambers. The bed she’d been given was big enough for six of her, fit for a duchess or a princess. She rolled over to the empty space to her left and imagined the figure of a man laying beside her, breathing softly as he slept, a gentle golden giant with a smile that put dawn to shame.

It would be her last morning waking up alone.

Marianne let her head fall back to the pillow. Dreams danced in her mind. Blonde dreams, dreams of broad shoulders and hands roughened from warfare, the way her future husband’s voice softened just for her. She’d been in love with Dimitri for many years. Even their time during the war against the Empire had been laced with hidden affections. Separated by duty once peace returned, they had fallen for each other through letters and occasional visits until, at long last, the both of them were ready. Marianne closed her eyes in hopes that her dreams of Dimitri would be enough to help her face Fódlan not as Marianne von Edmund, but as Marianne Blaiddyd. The queen.

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” shouted a voice behind Marianne’s door. She jumped as Hilda burst into the room without waiting for an answer. Three separate handmaids followed closely, along with Annette and Mercedes. “You wanna get married or what?”

“Hilda,” said Marianne, clutching her heart. “You startled me.”

“Well, good! It’s time to get out of bed, Marianne. Your king awaits.” Hilda promptly threw open the curtains and strode to Marianne’s bedside, yanking the blankets off her frame, snatching her hand, pulling her to her feet. Hilda looked so excited that Marianne feared she would detonate. “I can’t wait to put you in your dress! You're gonna love it _so_ much. I’ve worked on it tirelessly for the past six months, which is saying a lot for me. Dimitri had better not tear it when you go to bed tonight, or I’ll never forgive him.”

Marianne’s cheeks burned red. The wedding night had been a topic of intense focus for her these past weeks, but she would never admit it, never confess the longing that Dimitri left her with when they shared kisses between meetings or words of love in private. “I, um... I don’t think he would go that far, Hilda. He would only tear it by accident.”

“Dimitri will be extra careful,” chimed Annette, mimicking Hilda’s glee. She was already dressed for the wedding, her pink gown flowing off her tiny frame, red hair curled and styled in a typical Faerghan fashion. “Your dress is so incredibly amazing. You’ll look more like a queen than any queen who’s come before you.”

“You sure will!” Mercedes giggled. She, too, was ready for the ceremony in a light blue dress that hugged her curves. “I’m going to fix your hair while Annette does your makeup. It’s been so long since Faerghus has had a queen, you know. We’ve been working with Hilda to plan the perfect look for you. I think we nailed it.”

“Oh,” said Marianne with a wide, shy smile. Such kind friends she’d made over the course of her life. Where would she be without them? “Thank you. I trust you to make me look nice.”

“Just you wait, girlie.” Hilda poked Marianne’s nose. “Let’s get you ready for the rest of your life.”

The process of transforming a lady into a king’s bride took hours. After Marianne bathed with scented soaps and oils, Mercedes brushed her sky blue hair and styled it back into a curled, elaborate bun with pins and white flowers to hold it in place. Annette dabbed blush on Marianne’s cheeks and subtle pink color to her lips, black liquid to lengthen her lashes and a brush of floral perfume just below each ear.

“Aw, look at you,” said Annette. “You’re gorgeous!”

Marianne took a deep breath, a rush of giddiness overwhelming her. She’d never been pampered before. “Am I allowed to look yet?”

“Nope,” Hilda replied, taking Marianne by the wrist. “We don’t have any time to waste!”

Marianne stood still in the center of the room while Hilda, Mercedes, Annette and the handmaids took Hilda’s magnificent creation gently from the box she’d brought it in. First a slip, then a petticoat and corset, pale tights and a hoop skirt and a pair of crystal shoes. Marianne lifted her arms as her helpers lowered the dress over her head, adjusting the skirts so they flowed to the floor, tying the shimmering silk ribbons tight. The gown fell heavy around her. Mercedes attached a thin veil to a sparkling diamond comb, adding it to Marianne’s bun.

“Marianne,” muttered Hilda, stepping back to look her over from head to toe. “Oh, man.”

Mercedes touched Marianne’s arm in support. “You look prettier than the Goddess. Dimitri’s going to cry, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t know,” chuckled Marianne, looking down to the little gems Hilda had stitched into the gown. She _felt_ beautiful, which was all that mattered. “Can I look now?”

Annette moved to the other side of the room and brought a floor length mirror before her. “Here you go, Marianne. I hope you like it!”

Marianne faced her reflection.

Her wedding dress was woven with lace and tiny crystal flowers, the skirts so intricate that Marianne almost feared to move. The bodice was graced with embroidered white roses and bell sleeves hung off her freckled shoulders, stretching to her wrists. Combined with her decorated hair and makeup, Marianne could not recognize herself despite the little bloom of pride in her chest. “Who am I?” she asked no one in particular.

“A future queen,” said Hilda, hugging her from behind.

“How can I ever thank you?”

“By being the best queen you can be, of course!” Hilda kissed her cheek. “And by being happy. That’s really what we all want for both you and Dimitri, you know.”

Mercedes retrieved a fresh bouquet of white flowers from the dresser, lilies and roses and baby’s breath. She offered it to Marianne like a scepter. “It’s true. You and Dimitri deserve so much happiness. We’ll all be here to support you through thick and thin.”

Marianne accepted the flowers, beaming, leaning down to smell them. “I’ll do my best,” she promised. “I won’t let you down.”

Just as Mercedes predicted, Dimitri wept when he saw her.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

The post-wedding feast at the palace was unparalleled. The ballroom was decorated in garland and curled silver ribbons, and light, joyous music floated to the high ceilings. Marianne didn’t partake in the ceremonial roast boar that was dispersed among the guests, but Dimitri did not fail to provide for her. An abundance of frosted fruits and crisp, cucumber salads with fried fish and tomatoes, spiced garlic bread and ale lined the banquet tables in abundance. Marianne indulged as much as she felt was appropriate. 

All the nobility in Fhirdiad came to the head of the king’s table to congratulate the royal couple, but it was the familiar faces Marianne was most eager to see. Each of the members of the Blue Lion and Golden Deer houses from their Academy days had come to share in the jubilation. They all had their own busy lives to attend to, but none of them had forgotten their old bonds of friendship. Even Claude had come. He’d traveled all the way from Almyra just for the occasion, bringing gifts and tales and his sunlit smile. “Look at you, Your King and Queenliness,” he teased after hugging Dimitri and Marianne in turn. “You’re precious together. I’m really glad you found your happiness.”

Professor Byleth was particularly emotional. She pulled Dimitri and Marianne aside and praised them for their tenacity, their recovery, their honorable visions for the future. Tears and embraces were shared between them. For the rest of their lives, Dimitri and Marianne’s former professor would be one of the most important people in the world to them.

Alois was the last to offer his congratulations. “That was such a beautiful wedding,” he said, clapping Dimitri on the shoulder. “Even the cake was _in tiers._ ”

Dimitri burst into laughter. Marianne giggled alongside him; Alois’s jokes animated her husband more than most things. They were of a terrible quality, Dimitri had once explained, which was what made them so enjoyable.

Eating, dancing and merriment defined Dimitri and Marianne’s wedding feast, so much that the commonfolk and the nobility would remember it for years to come. But as the moon rose higher in the night, so too did the polite impatience of a consummation, a need long kept at bay. Marianne had just finished a chat with Lysithea when Dimitri took her hand in his, brushing his thumbs along her knuckles. His gaze asked that secret, silent question only newlyweds could -- _are you ready?_

The party was still alive around them, but Marianne did not want to wait. Her heartbeat sped as she nodded. Dimitri kissed her hand and smiled, almost sheepishly, before leaving her side.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

A fire crackled in the worn stone hearth. Fur rugs and blankets decorated Dimitri’s room, which was grim in Marianne’s opinion, but she understood the need for extra warmth come winter. An empty space on the wall was reserved for a painting. The massive bed’s wood canopy was draped in blue and grey fabric and the furniture held a dark timber hue, carved in intricate designs.

The chambers of the king were now hers, too.

It was an old Faerghan tradition that separated husband and wife before they joined in their marriage bed. A new husband was led to a separate room and dressed down by his friends, given words of wisdom and encouragement. A bride was taken to her new chambers and treated similarly by those closest to her, and when the husband was ready, he would knock upon the door, awaiting permission to enter. Dimitri had been accompanied by Dedue, Sylvain and Felix to another place, while Marianne had been led by Hilda, Annette and Mercedes to the king’s quarters. Comforting words and laughter did little to settle Marianne’s nerves. Leaving her in only a nightgown, her friends had fled shortly after they were done, and she was alone with the plague of her doubts. 

Marianne paced. She fiddled with her wedding ring, a woven silver band crowned with a great sapphire. She didn’t know what to do while she waited. Panic? Lay in his bed? _Their_ bed? She fussed with her curled blue hair, draping it over her back, then decided it would look nicer hanging over her shoulder. The flimsy cotton nightgown flattered her frame despite hanging off of her like a tent, and exaggerated parts of her body -- surely her breasts were never _that_ big before. She crossed her arms and searched frantically for a place to be whenever Dimitri came. The chair? Standing? Reading a book? Would any of those things exude an aura of indifference? What if he disapproved?

She was startled by the sound of a knock. Marianne’s heart leapt inside her, and she stopped pacing, staring at the door as though it would burst. “Come in.”

The door creaked open. Dimitri entered the room and closed it behind him, and they stared at each other when he faced her. His hair was down and he wore a simple sleeping chemise, left open at the chest, breeches laced, his feet bare against the stone brick floor. The strength of his figure was undeniable. Her stomach fluttered like a butterfly trapped in a cage.

Dimitri broke the silence by chuckling under his breath. He rubbed the side of his neck, his cheeks stained pink. “I’m sorry. I’m... speechless,” he admitted.

Marianne bit her lip. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Never.” Dimitri took a few steps closer, and her shoulders straightened as he stopped within arm’s reach. They’d shared kisses and touches before, but being close to him now made the air grow thick, as if it were the first time. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

She hummed. “I don’t know about that.”

“It’s true. It’s so very true.” Dimitri lifted his hand, brushing her cheek with his thumb, ever delicate, like she was made of glass. “You’re breathtaking. I’ve said before that your smile is my lucky charm, but I don’t deserve the luck that has blessed me with you.”

Marianne leaned into his touch. “You do. You _do_ deserve it.” She rested her hands on his chest, her fingers spreading along the fabric. She could feel the iron of his muscles under the cotton.

Dimitri leaned forward, holding her face in both of his warm hands, pressing his forehead to hers. Marianne encouraged herself to calm and breathe deeply with him. Whenever her sadness or the voices in his head threatened their sanity, they would touch foreheads and breathe together, eyes closed, until the fear subsided. Tonight, it was a gesture to soothe their shared anxiety. Two self-loathers confronting unconditional love could very well overwhelm them both.

“Thank you,” Marianne whispered after several minutes, her voice the only sound among the crackle of the hearth. “Thank you for loving me in spite of my flaws.”

“How could I not love you, Marianne?” he asked. “You are my healer. My anchor. My angel. My love in all things.” Dimitri brushed his nose against hers, back and forth in a slow motion. If there was ever a physical act of love, Marianne was sure that was it. “I will gladly spend the rest of my life loving you.”

Marianne’s fingers curled around his shirt and she circled the tip of his nose with hers. “And I’ll gladly be your lucky charm.”

Dimitri smiled, taking her lips with his own.

This kiss was different from the others. Marianne’s body responded in a new, demanding way. Dimitri pulled her flush against him and their kiss grew heated even in its gentle nature, mouths lingering, brushing, sharing breath before a new one began. Little kisses melted into long ones. He cradled the back of her neck, his other hand resting at her low back. The space between her legs pulsed as his tongue touched hers, and Marianne accepted him, lips parting, their kiss deepening with the passion of all their years in love. She tingled as if each nerve was alight.

Dimitri broke the contact to press his lips to her cheek, moving along her slender jawline. Marianne tightened her mouth shut, forcing any embarrassing sounds to stay within, but when Dimitri awarded her neck with the same fervor, a moan burst free. She recoiled and covered her mouth. Her blood ran cold. “I’m sorry! I--”

“Please don’t.” Dimitri guided her hands away from her face, his eye glazed over with lust. “Please, Marianne. I...” He swallowed hard. “I want to hear you.”

She could not tear her gaze from his, held captive in his binding stare. Marianne nodded. She trusted him more than anyone. Dimitri kissed her knuckles before returning to her neck, and her eyes fluttered closed, her moan falling freely. Dimitri spread fire with each kiss, his tongue hot along her skin. Marianne slid her hands down the front of his chest and tugged at his chemise. She wanted to feel him. Dimitri moved away from her neck and helped her lift the shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor.

Marianne didn’t know whether to smile or frown. Dimitri’s body was hardened with muscle and chiseled like any warrior’s, like a god’s, but he was littered with scars. Small ones, large ones, some misshapen, some that never fully healed. Dimitri seemed self-conscious about the sheer number of them. “It’s not a pretty sight,” he offered.

Marianne shook her head. “N-No, that’s not it at all.” She reached out her hands, pressing them to the hard heat of his skin. He breathed in at her touch. “You’re like art.”

“Art?” he asked, raising his brow.

“Like a sculpture, I mean. Like marble.” Marianne’s fingertips traced a long scar forming an X on his right shoulder.

“Even with all this?” 

“Mhm. You’re, um...” She chose to smile. “You’re handsome. Your scars are a part of you, so they’re handsome, too.” Marianne pressed a kiss to the one under her fingertips, then to another one just left, pouring out her love.

“Marianne,” murmured Dimitri, but he did not stop her.

One by one, Marianne pressed her lips to every scar she could see, from his collarbone to the side of his neck, down his chest and stomach and around to his back. She kissed along the great gashes between his muscled shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine, over thick arms and knuckles and long fingers. A lifetime of torment had left Dimitri marred. Marianne refused to believe that it made him any less beautiful.

When she came to the front of him again, Dimitri looked at her with such a searing need that she was struck still. His breath came heavy and his hands flexed at his sides. He closed the distance between them and grabbed her waist to pull her close, but she stopped his sudden kiss before it connected, her fingertips halting him by resting over his mouth. “There’s one more scar I need to kiss,” she uttered.

Dimitri let out a long sigh. Sadness took him. Marianne knew that he hid his right eye behind an eyepatch out of insecurity, to spare others the sight of the mangled mess that supposedly lay beneath, but a scar was a scar. She would kiss all of them, as many as she could find. Marianne cupped his cheek. “Um... may I?”

Dimitri nodded grimly. Marianne slid her fingers under the black strap and pushed it upwards, letting the eyepatch slip from his golden head.

A gnarled, gruesome mess of flesh replaced where an eye had once been. Poorly stitched at the time of injury, it healed wrong, and no trace of the eye remained. Dimitri’s other eye stared at the floor in shame. “It happened when I slammed my head into a mirror,” he said. “I saw my father’s face instead of my own, and...”

“Shh,” Marianne soothed, caressing his cheek, the sting of tears at the back of her throat. She always encouraged his honesty when it came to the horrors of his mind, and that had not changed, nor would it ever, but the things he told her often broke her heart.

She did not hesitate. Marianne held his face and tilted his head down to her, pressing her lips to his missing eye.

Dimitri shuddered. His hands found her hips, sliding around to her back, and he looked at her again with the same fiery passion that had dulled moments ago. Their faces were inches apart. “You are too good to me.”

He crashed his lips to hers before she could reply. Dimitri’s kiss was hungry, and Marianne gasped into his mouth as he picked her up by the waist to hold her at equal height. Her heart raced and rolled like the sea. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kept their kiss, threading her fingers in his soft hair, making him groan.

“I love you,” Marianne whispered between breaths. Her lips were swollen but she wouldn’t stop kissing him, couldn’t if she tried. She dropped his eyepatch to the floor. “I love you, Dimitri.”

“As I love you,” he replied. “Goddess, Marianne, I love you so much.”

He kissed her wildly once more before carrying her to the side of their bed. She was weightless in his arms. Dimitri set her feet on the ground, and Marianne blinked up at him, reading his hesitation, wishing it wasn’t there. His hands lingered. Only thin fabric separated skin from skin, and he looked to her with a pleading eye. “May I...?”

As unconfident as she was, Marianne ached to feel his hands on her body, so much that it was almost painful. She nodded her consent. Dimitri raised his hands and gently tugged at the sleeves of her nightgown. The cotton slid slow along her skin. He dragged it down her pale shoulders, creeping ever lower until it fell to the floor, exposing her entirety. 

Marianne was not comfortable in her body. She thought herself plain, too thin and pale with breasts larger than they should be and small curves for hips, dotted with freckles that centered around her shoulders. She was far from perfect. 

Dimitri wore that same needy stare, his breath wavering as he drank her in.

“Um...” Marianne shifted her feet, wringing her toes, nervous under the spotlight of his gaze. “I hope I’m, um... alright...”

Dimitri shook his head. “You’re heavenly,” he whispered.

Marianne smiled, feeling sheepish, her cheeks a raging shade of red. Her smile broke when Dimitri traced her collarbone with his fingertips. Delicate, light as a feather. She shuddered under his touch. “I’m terrified that I’ll hurt you,” he admitted with a frown. “My strength could break you, or worse.”

“I-If, um...” Goddess, it was impossible to speak when he touched her like that. “If you can hold a needle without breaking it now, I should be okay.” Marianne looked up at him. “You won’t hurt me, Dimitri.”

“You’ll tell me if I cause you pain?” he asked. “I couldn’t live with myself if I harmed you.”

“I promise.” Marianne placed her hand on his elbow to assure him. “I trust you with me.”

Dimitri hesitated before allowing his hand to move down over the edge of her left breast. He cupped it in his hand, squeezing softly, circling his thumb over her nipple. A sharp moan shook her. Sweet waves trickled from his thumb to the crux between her legs, and she throbbed as Dimitri took her other breast in his opposite hand, mimicking the same motion. Marianne whimpered and gripped his upper arms as he caressed her. Her knees felt weak.

“So beautiful,” Dimitri murmured, his tone laced with eagerness. Her breasts fit perfectly in his hands and the more he exploited her sensitivity, the more vulnerable she became, her soft noises of delight spurning him on. “So very beautiful.”

Marianne’s laugh was breathless. Removing his hands from her, Dimitri leaned down and scooped her up into his arms like the bride she was, and kissed her fiercely. He used his knees to climb atop their bed, laying her down on the fur blankets, on her back. Dimitri lay beside her, propped up on his elbow, his left arm hooked under her neck. He showered her with kisses. From her lips to her jawline to her sweetly bruised neck, all over her breasts, sucking at the peaks as she moaned in bliss. He kissed her sternum and trailed his lips back up to her collarbone before finally taking her by the mouth.

Dimitri’s right hand rested at the top of her raised knees. His middle finger waited at the valley where her thighs met, seeking what they held. “May I, Marianne?”

Slowly, feeling awkward despite how she thrummed with the need to be touched, Marianne spread her soft thighs, exposing herself to him. Dimitri looked down to her sex. Marianne couldn’t see his expression, but the way his breath hitched was familiar, and when he kissed her again there was no lack of enthusiasm. His tongue slipped between her teeth as his fingers moved up her thigh, higher and higher until he reached the patch of sky blue hair between her legs. 

His middle finger dipped between her wet, swollen lips. Finally, _finally,_ a release for the ache. Marianne could hear how ready she was and whimpered in desperation as he moved the pad of his finger along her opening. His eye was hazy when he met hers. “Does that feel alright?”

Marianne could only nod. She moaned a little louder and clenched the blankets in her fists when his finger moved north of her entrance, circling the little nub of nerves at the core of her lust. Her toes curled into the blanket beneath her. Gasping, she looked up at him with a stare that begged for more, and he kissed her cheek, her temple as he continued to pleasure her. “You’re perfect,” he whispered.

Marianne would have thanked him, were she able. The only sounds that came from her were whimpers and sighs, desperate little noises that she couldn’t hinder. Her right arm was pressed against his chest. Looking between them, she saw the strain of his laced breeches, the bulge that stretched the ties as far as they could go while remaining in place. She met his eye to watch his reaction as she trailed her hand down his chest and lower stomach, pulling at the strings.

His hips moved forward to meet her hand. Dimitri’s eye closed for a moment and he kissed her with a bruising need. Marianne’s free hand curled his hair behind his ear as she untied his breeches fully, and with no hesitation, she reached under the fabric and took him in her hand.

Dimitri’s length was heavy, hot and hard in her grasp and nearly too large for her to hold. She had nothing to compare to, but it was impressive all the same, sturdy and strong, the tip a shade of purple from a rush of blood. Just the sight of him excited her in a primal way and made the sensation between her legs more satisfying. Dimitri groaned as she wrapped her small hand around his shaft and stroked him, unsure of whether it was right, but his enjoyment encouraged her.

“Tell me if this hurts you,” he murmured in her ear before kissing her there. “I’ll stop in an instant.” Dimitri’s finger halted at her entrance. Marianne’s depths pulsed and yearned to be filled, and she nodded, all her trust in her husband, taking a deep breath.

He slipped his middle finger inside of her. It was an odd feeling, mildly painful but not enough to ask him to stop. She furrowed her brow and looked up at him. Dimitri’s stare was so heated that it ignited her further. “How is it?”

“Different,” said Marianne. “Not bad. I, um... I think I just need to get used to it.”

Dimitri brushed noses with her. “Please tell me if it becomes uncomfortable.”

She couldn’t help but giggle a bit. “You won’t hurt me.” Dimitri’s left arm was still hooked under her neck to support her head, and she raised her hand to hold his, her other still stroking him slowly.

“Mm.” Dimitri kissed her. “May I add another?” he asked, pulling his finger from her to prepare a second. Dimitri kissed down her neck and up her cheek, and she moaned as his thumb circled her nerves again, making waves, studying her every inch as she studied his. Marianne nodded. He slipped a second finger inside of her. With a shuddered breath, she arched her back as he stretched her even more. Almost too much.

Dimitri’s moan sent a shiver down her spine. His voice was intoxicating, distracting from the soreness. “Talk to me.”

“It’s... uncomfortable,” she admitted, biting her lip. “But I don’t want you to stop.”

“Are you sure?”

She shook her head. “Please, don’t.”

Dimitri kissed her nose, searching her face for certainty before he continued. His thumb brushed back and forth along her sensitive center, drawing whimpers from her. He moaned when she squeezed his sex, sliding her thumb along the tip, rubbing the small trace of fluid around the head. They breathed and sighed together, sharing kisses and smiles and touches of love, mapping each other like cartographers on uncharted land as selfless desire was their compass. 

“D-Do you, um,” Marianne tried to say, and Dimitri stopped his motions to listen to her. “Do you have more scars on your legs, Dimitri?”

He blinked down at her. “I do.”

“I’d like to kiss those too, then.” Marianne cupped his cheeks and pressed her lips to his. “If that’s okay.”

Dimitri’s smile was filled with the purest adoration. He pulled his fingers from her and wiped them on the blankets before threading them through her hair. He kissed her sweetly. “It is more than okay, so long as that is your wish.”

“It is.”

Dimitri moved away from her to push his breeches down and off his body, tossing them aside. Marianne scooted over so there was enough room for him to lay on his back, and she sat up on her knees between his parted legs, looking down at him.

If there was ever a man born to beauty, it was Dimitri. Her husband, her love. His skin glowed in the firelight and his golden hair spilled over the pillow like a halo. Dimitri was covered in evidence of a horrific past, but he was no less bright like the sun, and she, his world in orbit. Her hands came to rest on his thighs. “You’re so handsome.”

Dimitri chuckled, though she could tell he was nervous. Uncertain. “I am glad you think so.”

Marianne wanted to insist, but she did not. She looked down to his hips. Dimitri’s cock was thick with need, laying flat against his belly, pleading for contact. It was so tempting, somehow. Another part of the exhibit. She hesitated before leaning down, pressing a kiss to the tip.

Dimitri shivered. It pleased Marianne greatly, filling her with pride, but that act could wait for now. His scars were her focus. Moving back for space’s sake, Marianne traced a thin scar at his right hip before pressing her lips there, tender and gentle. Dimitri smoothed her hair as she moved down to his thighs, each old wound from an arrow or blade or his own nails earning a healing kiss. Dimitri sat up and stroked her hair, watching her. His knees, both misshapen from being skinned in the past, met her lips. His shins, his calves. She trailed down with affection, the hair on his legs ticking her face, stopping at a final scar atop his right foot.

When Marianne looked up at Dimitri at last, his eye was swimming with tears. All the lust fled from her. She panicked. “I’m--I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong?” asked Dimitri with a shake of his head. He reached and gathered her in his strong arms without warning. He held her so tight that she could barely breathe and buried his face in her hair. “It’s not fair,” he confessed, his voice wavering. “It’s not fair how wonderful you are, Marianne. What have I ever done to deserve such kindness? Such love?” Dimitri kissed her freckled shoulder. “You are more a goddess to me than the Goddess Herself. I’ll never be worthy of you. No human could ever be.”

His praises eased her. Marianne’s smile bore so much light that the fire in the hearth was shamed. She melted in his embrace, feeling tears at the backs of her own brown eyes, but she was far too happy to let them fall. 

“You are the mercy I always prayed for,” he said.

“Stop,” she chuckled, nuzzling his chest. “I don’t want to cry, Dimitri. We haven’t even finished the night yet.”

“I’ll never stop. Every day, I will tell you these things until you believe them, and even then, I’ll continue.”

Marianne giggled, though his grip was becoming painful. “If you hug me any tighter, you won’t have anyone to say them to.”

“Ah.” Dimitri loosened his hold, unwrapping his arms from her, resting his hands at her hips. “I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment, I suppose.” He reached up to curl her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” she said. “I’m fine.”

He sighed in relief. Dimitri drank in Marianne’s smile and returned it before pressing his lips to hers. When he spoke, his voice was so desperate that it sent a chill down her spine. “Let me dote on you,” he begged. _"Please,_ Marianne. It is all I want.”

She could only nod. Brushing lips and noses together, Dimitri kissed her with unmatched yearning. He hooked an arm around her waist and flipped her over, on her back, settling on top of her, raining kisses and licks and nibbles down her neck and collarbone. Marianne whimpered under his intensity and the sensations he brought. He cupped her breasts and spent minutes kissing them, sucking at the peaks, squeezing, nuzzling, groaning against her skin, drawing endless moans from her, one after the other. She felt more like a queen than any crown he could give. Pleasure spiked and her sex pulsed hard between her thighs. He kissed downward still, over the flat of her stomach while his hands gripped her hips, and when his mouth met her inner thigh, she shivered. Marianne looked down at him. Dimitri eyed her with that needy stare. Whatever it was he wanted to do, she would allow. She was clay in his hands.

Dimitri kept eye contact with her as he leaned down and swiped his tongue along her little ball of nerves. Marianne gasped so hard that she nearly choked, clutching the blankets for grounding.

“Was it alright?” he asked.

Marianne’s “yes” was more of an embarrassing cry. When he licked her again, she moaned high, waves of hot pleasure rippling up to the base of her skull. He continued to ravish her and the sounds she made were unchecked, unfiltered. She snaked her fingers into his hair. Dimitri groaned against her. He worked her breathless, worked her ragged, his tongue teasing and lapping and circling everywhere she needed it to. His name rang throughout the room whenever it escaped her. Such pleasure shouldn’t be real; it held far too much power. The tightness of her body made her spread her legs wider to try to accommodate, chasing something invisible. 

“Marianne,” groaned Dimitri, his wet lips kissing her thigh. “Your voice.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Her face burned. Marianne toyed with her lip. “I’m sorry. It’s too loud, isn’t it?”

“Goddess, no. It’s perfect.” His sigh was more of a shudder against her skin. “So perfect.”

Marianne wanted to feel him, badly. Their hearts and bodies craved shared passion more than anything. “Come here,” she asked with a shy smile. “I want to kiss you.”

Dimitri obliged. He kissed up her stomach and pressed his lips to hers, claiming her as she claimed him. “My love,” Dimitri whispered, his tone husked. “Do you feel you're ready?”

A spark of anxiety flared within Marianne. It would hurt. She knew it would hurt. Dimitri felt like heaven when he touched her and she feared that the pain would overwhelm the wonder of the moment, tainting it forever.

Dimitri read her eyes and frowned. “We don’t have to go any further. I want you to enjoy this.”

“N-No, please,” Marianne pleaded. “I want to. I want you, Dimitri.” The unintended desire in her tone made her blush worsen. She bit her lip hard as his length brushed her inner thigh. The panic returned. She knew that if Dimitri saw the distress in her expression he would stop, so she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Dimitri positioned himself with his warm hips cradled between hers, and he propped himself up with one hand, the other reaching between them.

“I will be gentle,” he murmured against her mouth. Dimitri brushed noses with her, and Marianne forced a smile. “Tell me when it hurts. I won’t forgive myself if I cause you pain.”

Marianne nodded, whimpering as Dimitri pressed the head of his cock to her opening. She ached for it, needed it, and yet the barrier of her virginity would not grant her the pleasure she sought. Worst of all, it would rob him of his.

“Please look at me, Marianne.”

She raised her eyes. It was useless to keep up a facade; he knew her too well, and would see right through it. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He kissed her sweetly. “I am yours to command. If you bid me to stop, I will without hesitation. Your comfort is more important to me than anything.”

Marianne nodded. “I know. I trust you. I’m just terrified that the pain will spoil how perfect it’s been so far.”

“I can’t think of anything worse,” Dimitri admitted. He kissed her cheek. “How can I make it easier for you?”

Marianne held his face in her hands, sighing against his lips. “Go slowly, please.”

“Of course.” He kissed her again, the corner of her mouth, her cheek, down her neck. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Marianne rested her hands on his shoulders, her body tense. 

“Breathe, my love.”

Dimitri kept his eye focused on her. He moved his hips forward just enough, the head of him slipping inside her. The stretch of her muscles felt as though they would tear. She cried out and pressed against his chest to halt him, her eyes clenched shut, awash with shame. She was a failure of a wife for stopping him. How torturous it must be to wait for her. If only she were less fragile, less susceptible to pain, more tolerant of his needs.

Dimitri stopped his motion in an instant and stayed still, kissing the corner of her mouth. His tone was sad. “You’re tense.”

“I can’t help it. I’m sorry. I’ll be better.”

“Shh, Marianne,” soothed Dimitri, stroking her hairline, bringing peace. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I am here for you always.” He took a few moments to comfort her before his mouth spread into a sudden smirk. “We just need to break the ice. It’s a slippery subject, but I think we can crack it.”

She blinked up at him. Dimitri’s grin was full of amusement until the sparkle in his eye faded. “Ah. I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I thought it a fitting time to joke.”

Marianne couldn’t help herself. She burst into a fit of laughter, hiding her face in her hands. Dimitri pulled her into an embrace and kissed the side of her head. His laughter joined hers, vibrating in her bones. There was no sweeter sound. “You’re silly,” giggled Marianne. “You really like Alois’s jokes, don’t you?”

“They’re insufferable,” he chuckled, lifting his head to look down at her. “That’s what makes them hilarious.”

Their humor eased any tension that remained, melted away like snow. Dimitri stroked her hairline again, pressing kiss after kiss to her cheek. She relaxed completely. “Better?”

“Better.” Marianne turned her head to plant her lips to his. “Thank you, Dimitri. You always know how to make me smile.”

He nuzzled her face, filling her with affection. “I’m glad for it. Your smile is my favorite sight in the world.”

Marianne spread her legs a bit wider and breathed deeply to prepare. With a nod of encouragement, Dimitri filled her inch by tentative inch.

There was pain. Marianne gasped from it, but whenever she felt stretched beyond their limit, Dimitri would stop to soothe her, waiting for her comfort and permission before he moved again. In and out, slowly as promised. His pace was patient. The sensation was strange and uncomfortable, feeling more like a foreign object inside of her rather than making love. Where were the stars and fireworks the poets spoke of? Marianne wanted to experience love at its highest peak with Dimitri, just like the stories Hilda had told her.

Only after several languid cycles of his hips did the hurt inside dissipate, blossoming to what it was meant to be. Warm tingles deep within made her lips part with a cry.

“Does it feel alright?” Dimitri asked.

“Yes,” sighed Marianne. _“Yes...”_

Dimitri kissed her, finally allowing himself to enjoy her feeling, increasing his pace to match the tick of a clock.

Satisfied sounds made music between them. Marianne slipped her arms around his neck and moaned in accompaniment, as did Dimitri, shuddering in her arms. He gripped her outer thigh and looked at her with such care, such desire, that she felt cherished beyond recall. Pleasure shot from their joining to the tips of her toes, to the base of her skull and back again with each thrust. “Dimitri,” she whimpered. He rested his forehead to hers, rushed breaths mixing together. Every inch of his devotion was known to her.

“You feel divine,” murmured Dimitri. _"Goddess,_ you’re divine.”

He sped once again, praising her, confessing his love and adoration, pumping into her with renewed vigor. The sweat on his back dampened her fingertips when she trailed them along his spine and she laughed when he nibbled at her ear. Dimitri’s steady pace spurned a deep-rooted rapture that increased the more he moved, the more he worshipped. Higher, higher. Marianne clung to his shoulders, her breath coming in short spurts, body tightening, muscles clenching. “I love you,” she whimpered. “Dimitri, I-I’m--”

“Marianne,” Dimitri moaned in reply. “Look at me. Let me see you.”

Marianne met his eye. She kept her gaze locked with his, focused on the build inside her, climbing, reaching, until his groan of her name pushed her into oblivion. Marianne’s back arched and she cried out, her enamored sounds echoing off their chamber walls, and Dimitri slowed to ravish her. Surge after surge of euphoria rippled through her body, little squeals followed by soft moans and gasps of _“Dimitri.”_ She held tight to him as the high evaporated and left bliss in its wake. She shivered, smiling, sated, content.

“So beautiful,” whispered Dimitri when he kissed her, slowing his pace to a stop. “No more pain?”

Marianne shook her head. “N-No,” she barely managed, breathless. “No pain.”

Dimitri sighed in relief. He nuzzled her nose with his. “You’re flawless.”

Marianne was too filled with joy to respond in words. Beaming, she kissed him with unhindered love and the taste in his mouth became the taste in hers. Dimitri thrust his hips forward and regained a rhythm that made her sore in the sweetest way. She whimpered his name. The bloom of him striking her deepest point spread throughout her body, blossoming into ecstasy. She slid her fingers along his scalp and kept her eyes on him, watching his expression twist with the rise of his body’s own release. “Please,” she begged, her hands in his hair, holding him. Moments later, Dimitri pulled her tight into his arms and buried his face in her neck, moaning loud into her skin, her name drawn from his lips like a prayer. Marianne chuckled as he slowed. Eyes fluttering closed, she kissed his shoulder, moving up to his lips when he lifted his head, resting his forehead to hers.

“My love,” he breathed into her open mouth, capturing her in a kiss. “My wife. My angel.”

She giggled, all the happiness in the world settling in her heart. “You’re too sweet.”

“You deserve no less.”

They kissed each other with tenderness, little pecks on cheekbones and jawlines and necks, coming at last upon their lips. Dimitri pulled out of Marianne and laid on his back, gathering her in his embrace, holding her to his iron chest. Her skin was hot all over. Dimitri’s fingertips trailed up and down her spine and Marianne hugged him from the side, her left thigh draped over both of his. They caught their breath in silence.

“Was it alright?” he asked her, kissing the crown of her head. 

“Mm. It was wonderful.” Marianne traced mindless shapes on the center of his chest. “You’re, um... you’re very good.”

He laughed with her. “As are you. I almost understand why Sylvain chased women with such devotion back in our Academy days. Almost.” Dimitri kissed her again. “I could easily become addicted to you.”

“There’s always time in the morning for more,” said Marianne, almost coy. She blushed. The feeling was mutual.

“Oh?” Another kiss. Dimitri hummed into her hair. “I would love nothing more than to start and end each day like this, Marianne. Your peace centers me.”

Marianne smiled. She lifted her head to kiss his chest before nuzzling into him once more.

Marriage would not be easy. The duties of a king and queen were many, some more difficult than most, and combined with their shared yearning for a sizable family, their lives would be busy indeed. But Dimitri and Marianne would always find time for each other. Day and night, without fail.

They expressed their love once more before falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> *slams fists on table* IT'S WHAT THEY DESERVE  
> This is sappy as shit and I'm not sorry.  
> I'm not super confident in my oneshot skills. I'm definitely more of a novel/long haul writer. But [Twitter](https://twitter.com/moffnat/status/1294206276830781442) voted for a wedding night oneshot, and I am nothing but thine humble servant.  
> Thanks for stopping by! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3 If you like my style, you might be into my [Cinderella AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25146613/chapters/60930568) too, if you feel like reading more.  
> Have a lovely day!  
> (also i saw a tweet once that said "the only thing we as a fandom can agree on is that dimitri has a monster dong" and honestly i felt that)  
>  **EDIT 10/2020:** The wonderful @[roxyryoko](https://twitter.com/roxyryoko/status/1320260880785813504?s=20) on Twitter decided to make an illustration for this fic out of the kindness of her heart, and y'all, I'm shook. Please go follow her and worship her gorgeous art with all the devotion it deserves! ;__;


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